Chapter 2

Sirius hated being ordered around. Maybe it was due to his upbringing; the countless 'Blacks do' and 'Blacks do not' rules that, when broken, meant punishment, varying from a swift blow to the ear, to being sent to The Room. Maybe it was simply in his blood to despise it; after all, the ancient traits of Pride and Superiority might as well have been included into the family motto. Whatever it was, orders had always rankled him, for as long as he could remember. Whether they were from his screeching mother, the eternally miserable Filch, or his brilliant, albeit occasionally boring, teachers. So, he made it his life's work to entertain himself by annoying these people, rebelling in any way he could, and pushing The Line as much as possible.

After all, it was difficult for anyone to stay too angry, or at least punish him, if he technically hadn't broken any rules. In fact, it was a point of pride to him, that during only one year of him being at Hogwarts, a whole new folder of regulations had been created, because technically he hadn't broken any rules. Yes, he would readily admit that introducing a whole herd of garden gnomes to the library had likely been an error in judgement, but it didn't specifically say anywhere that one shouldn't try to help a group of magical beasts find a new home. They liked building little houses out of the books. It was a perfectly reasonable idea. Now, of course, there was a rule against it. Stupid grown-ups not understanding fun.

There were only three people, he reasoned, that he would take orders from, and only then if they were direct and didn't irritate him too much. Well, four, he considered as he jogged down the slopes to Hagrid's Hut, but his father hadn't spoken to him beyond, 'Pass the salt', in so long that he couldn't even remember what he sounded like when being authoritative. In fact, he'd barely spoken at all for years, to anyone.

Shaking the thought off like an irritating bug, a wasp or a flea or something, he returned to the task at hand. That girl- she'd looked like a girl from a distance at least- needed help, and he was more than happy to step into the role of Knight in Shining Armour! Or, you know, Knight in Dark Armour. He much preferred being the broody, intriguing type with the wicked sense of humour and just enough danger. That was his act, at least, to himself and to others. Deep down he knew that he could be capable of more than 'just enough' danger. But he didn't go there. He never did. There led to bad places which led to worse places which led to The Room. Then again, The Room was never far from his mind.

"Black!" Hagrid's voice suddenly boomed. "What're yeh doin' here? Don' tell me yuh've ruined me pumpkins again!" His beetle eyes were twinkling as he regarded Sirius, and he grinned back. Hagrid was awesome, a great laugh with some incredible stories about past students that he was more than happy to share with he and the others. Especially after a bottle of Muggle whiskey. He liked the company, Sirius figured, and they enjoyed his too, so long as they avoided his baking. Even Peter, who had once eaten an entire block of mould-ridden cheddar on a dare, wouldn't touch the food at Hagrid's.

"Hey, Hagrid. Listen, no time to explain- oh, your pumpkins are fine, your cabbages and carrots are too, though you might want to check your broad beans at some point, not sure but they might be alive now- anyway, there's this girl who's appeared out of nowhere and she's in trouble so I came to get you now let's go!" He blurted out, already pulling uselessly at his huge forearm.
"Hold on, Sirius, what abou' a girl?"
"Trouble!" Sirius yelled. "Blood, unconscious, dead? Maybe not dead. But trouble, her, in!" He continued to pull on his sleeve with all his might, and nearly toppled over- for the second time in less than ten minutes- when Hagrid began striding forward.
"What're yeh playin' at getting' me, Black?" What little face not covered with bristly hair crinkled. "Yeh should've bin getting' Professor Dumbledore!"
"Remus's gone to get him, and Pete's gone after Madam Pomfrey." Sirius answered breathily as he tried to regain his composure and keep up.

Hagrid nodded and murmured something about, 'Great man', under his breath. Sirius thought about their Head idly. Now no-one, not even someone as stupid and rebellious as him, would cross Dumbledore, or disobey a direct order from him. There was just something about the man; when that intense, blue eyed gaze fell on you, you just had to do whatever you could to make it go away and just stop. It wasn't just that he was the Headmaster, or that he was insanely powerful, or even that he was famous for a ridiculous amount of things, it was just that he- that he… He had his name on a Chocolate Frog card, for Merlin's sake. You just didn't mess around with someone who had their own Chocolate Frog card!

Mrs Potter, she was second on his list of do-not-say-no-to people. Mrs Potter, James' mum, Euphemia, who was always kind and understanding. Who had actually promised to keep a bed made at her home for him, in case he needed to unexpectedly stay. Who despite her Fawley blood and Hufflepuff upbringing, could terrify anyone, much as a lioness, if they dared attack her son. He had even seen McGonagoogly wither under Mrs Potter's gaze, when she dared suggest that James had started a duel that had left Sirius in the Hospital Wing.

She could be terrifying on occasion, and it was not worth finding out what would happen if one disobeyed a direct command. Especially not for Sirius, who she had almost immediately started to view as a second son, and who had been more of a mother to him than his own ever had. He relied on Mrs Potter more than he would ever admit, and would likely skip into a dementor-infested cave if she asked him. Serious orders from her were rare, and when she gave them no-one would deny. Of course, if it was a 'tidy your room'-esque order then she was open to as much ridicule and laughter as the next person.

"How'd yeh find this girl?" Hagrid asked, cutting across his inner monologue.
"I fell over her." Sirius admitted, without any shame.
"Typical. Yeh all right?" He grunted, a hint of concern colouring his tone.
"Yeah, yeah. All fine."
Hagrid squinted. "Is Mr Potter talkin' to himself?"

Sirius followed his gaze and gave a small, unintentional half-smile. James Potter, his best friend and closer to his brother than stupid Reggie ever had been, was knelt beside the girl and- his smile turned into a wicked grin- he did seem to be talking to himself. This was classic material for future mocking.

James was the third and final person he wouldn't deny an order from, though he couldn't exactly pin-point why. He could only remember when James had first given him an order, and how actually he hadn't really minded.

\*/

He had first come to Hogwarts with a plan. Certain he'd be sorted into Slytherin, like most of his family, he was going to show straight away that he didn't care for this blood purity nonsense, but also show that he was powerful enough that he couldn't be pushed around. He would go through his seven years, alone and friendless as he was accustomed to, then get the hell out of the country, go somewhere where the name 'Black' meant nothing.

Then that raggedy old hat had ruined things in the most wonderful way.

Despite being suddenly and unexpectedly sorted into Gryffindor, he'd intended to keep to his plan of asserting his dominance whilst making it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with his name and the beliefs associated with it. And that he was not going to be ordered around. So when he and the other first years were told to follow their Prefect to the Common Room, he had impulsively and, in hindsight, rather stupidly, wandered off alone, nose defiantly in the air. Being a Black, he'd refused to ask for help, but was beginning to become concerned as he walked through endless corridors that all looked the bloody same. He smirked as he recalled muttering, "Would it kill them to put some bloody signs up?"

A voice nearby had snickered, and another boy had rounded the corner. "I know, right? But then I guess they'd be magical so they'd just move around." Sirius had glanced over the lightning-struck, spikey hair and glasses and smirked. If it came to a fist fight, he could take this kid, no problem. "Lost, are you?" The boy had asked.
Sirius had scowled. "No. Mind your own business."
This had seemed to amuse the other lad, who had simply shrugged and said, "Well, I'm on my way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, before they figure out I'm gone. See ya."

Hesitantly, Sirius had followed. His legs were tired, and nothing had gone as expected, and he was probably disowned by now, and he was bloody hungry having not being able to eat, and he just wanted a bloody bed to bloody sleep in. They had traipsed up countless flights of stairs before Sirius finally spoke. "So you're a Gryffindor?" The other boy gave him a look that clearly said, duh, and he bristled slightly. "What year are you in? Gonna rat me out?"
"Wow," he'd replied, "you really were out of it during the sorting. I'm a first year, got sorted after you."
"I had a lot of things on my mind." He'd snapped, and the boy had shrugged.

When the guy had let them into their common room- after a zillion flights of stairs and a very disapproving portrait- Sirius followed him mutely up another staircase, this one spiralling, to the Boys Dormitory. Snapping out of his reverie, he'd reverted to The Plan and, ignoring Mr Spikey-Hair and another lanky boy who was methodically placing books in his bedside cabinet, he approached one of the beds. Specifically, one of the beds which already had clothes piled hap-hazardously upon it.

With one grand motion he swept the pile of shirts, trousers and underwear from the mattress and flopped down, glaring at the fourth guy steadily. Clearly the previous claimant of this bed, he was a short, somewhat round boy with wispy blonde hair, and he had met Sirius' grey eyes with pale blues of his own. Pale blues filled with fear. Like hell am I going to let anybody, let alone this wimp, boss me around, he'd thought arrogantly.

And that might have been that, if Spectacles hadn't have seen. "That's Peter's bed." He'd said quietly.
"That's okay, I can-" The short boy interrupted, but Sirius saw the other guy raise a hand to quiet him.
"No, Pete, you chose that bed and it's yours."
Sirius had rolled his eyes, drawling in a bored tone, "So? What about it?"
The other guy had strolled across, into Sirius' eyeline and nodded his head towards the last vacant bed. "That's yours."

He had begun to bite back a sarcastic or confrontational remark, more than ready to pummel him to prove that he would be in charge. But then he actually met this guy in the eye and faltered slightly. His hazel eyes were hard, and though he was only eleven and somewhat short, he held a kind of power around him, a power that could silence a room with only a look. And indeed, even the boy with the books had stopped unpacking and was watching on with Mr Watery Eyes, both of their mouths open. He glanced between Spikey, Lanky and Wispy-Hair, and felt his retort die in his throat. Those hard hazel eyes were not to be argued with.

He had risen slowly, tensing his shoulders to hide the shaking as his mind went to The Room, and started walking to the other bed, before pausing abruptly. Spinning on a heel, he'd picked up this boy, Peter's, clothes and placed them back on the mattress. "Sorry, man." He'd mumbled.
"No problem." The guy called, chuckling awkwardly as Spikey returned to his own bed casually.

Sirius had started to unpack and the tension had slowly begun to unwind when the weirdly powerful guy had spoken again. "Hey," He'd called, and all three had turned to find him looking at Sirius with a small, peace-offering, smile, "I noticed you didn't eat much at dinner, and my mum packed me practically a banquet for the train." He rolled his eyes fondly. "So, you want a sandwich or anything?"
"Err…" He'd been bemused. He'd clearly broken some kind of rule and this boy hadn't let him get away with it. But he also wasn't punishing him. What the hell was this?
"Oh, I'm James, by the way. That over there's Peter, and he's Remus." He pointed to the others in turn, before tilting his head in an obvious question. Sirius was still trying to figure out what his punishment would be, and how it would be enacted, and must have looked rather idiotic as the boy, James, went on to say- each syllable deliberately enunciated- and with one finger pointing at himself, "Jaaa-meees Pottt-teeer."

He'd flinched. Ah, here was the punishment. If his roommates had been half-bloods or muggle-borns, he might have avoided any hostility regarding his name, but the Potters were Sacred 28, and so undoubtedly knew about the Blacks, and the type of people they were. He'd envied the Potter family, whilst they were insulted round his dining table and hated on principal, as they represented everything contrary to his own family. This guy, James, would certainly hate him as soon as he told him who he was. Oh well, might as well get this over and done with.

"Sirius." He'd croaked. "Sirius Black."
James had started slightly, before shrugging. "Bet your folks won't be too happy tomorrow, huh?"
"I'm expecting a least one Howler from my mother and a dozen hexes from my horrid cousins."
The other guy had flashed a grin that Sirius quickly learned to enjoy. "Well then, we'd better get started on ideas for revenge. We've gotta stick together, you know."
Sirius had smirked back. "Sounds good to me."
"So, you want a sandwich or what?"

\*/

Since that day, whenever James got that look in his eyes, which was rare enough to make it of upmost importance, Sirius and the others obeyed. It was also since that day that he'd considered Spikey his best friend. Merlin knew Sirius couldn't trust his family, or himself for that matter, but James he could trust. James would have his back. James would be his brother. James would stop him from doing something that would make him hate himself or, worse, the other three hate him.

However, brother or no, the guy was talking to himself and, honestly, James would likely be ashamed if Sirius didn't give him hell for it down the road. Especially when Slughorn and McGloogly walked up, she said something, and he yelped, then shrieked like a five-year-old girl. Oh yes, he thought wickedly, following in Hagrid's booming footsteps, this is definitely future mocking material. But then they were close enough to see the scene properly, see the ginger lump attached to James' leg and, more alarmingly, the blood soaking into the earth from the unconscious girl. Hagrid burst into a sprint, Sirius close at his heel.

\*/

A/N Thanks as always to those who've taken the time with this, especially my lovely reviewers! circumviolation; I sure hope that's a good wow! alogan and muzzerae; thank you very much, I hope to keep you intrigued. pianomouse; you're very welcome for sharing, thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts! Crossy; I don't think there's enough of this pairing around, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Going to be bouncing between the views of various characters throughout the story, Remus was a pretty fun one to write though.